Chapter 32 Elijah
ELIJAH
We wake to more rain the following morning, both of us bleary-eyed with fatigue. We didn’t sleep much, two nights in a row.
When she finally climbed out of my bed this morning, it was all I could do to let her go.
I tried to tell myself it was done. It should be.
This is already complicated, and there are these occasional moments when she looks at me and I can see her waiting.
Waiting for me to say something has changed.
Waiting for me to tell her I don’t want it to end.
So it needs to stop. But I don’t think I’ve got that much restraint. If the opportunity presents itself in New Orleans, I will take it. And who am I kidding? I’m going to do everything in my power to create an opportunity, too.
It’s raining in fits and starts as we load the car and drive to Paul’s for my grandmother and Betty.
Not five minutes after we set out, it’s raining so hard that I have no visibility.
We’re crossing a really low bridge, one where the water appears to be ten inches deep.
Multiple cars have stalled out, and there are many bridges like this one ahead of us on our journey.
“Must be that hurricane,” Betty says. “I sure hope it doesn’t turn for New Orleans.”
“I never heard about a hurricane,” I say, while Easton, beside me, pulls out her phone to check.
“How could you not have heard?” Betty asks. “It’s been all over the news for two days straight.”
Easton and I exchange a glance. “We were kind of checked out,” I tell Betty. “Where’s it heading?”
Easton scratches her chin. “I think this, today, is just a regular rainstorm...the hurricane’s too far away at the moment, but they expect it to strengthen once it hits the Gulf, at which point it either turns toward Cancun, Fort Myers, or New Orleans.”
“Shit,” I say quietly.
“Kelsey should call it off right now,” says my grandmother, who’s been unusually subdued in her hatred of Easton today. “What if everyone flies in and gets trapped?”
“Nonsense,” says Betty. “She’d cancel, and then the storm will turn and it’ll all have been for no reason.”
They continue to bicker between themselves. Easton’s lovely mouth is pressed tight, her eyes worried.
“What’s up?” I ask quietly.
“Kelsey’s been planning her wedding since we were seven. I mean, I’ve never seen any little kid more focused on this than she was. I hate that it might be ruined.”
I glance at her again. “You seemed pretty focused on getting married yourself as a kid.”
She gives me the most half-hearted smile in response. I suspect because the person she wanted to marry was me.
This is what I’d tell her if I could: I wanted it too. I still do.
But a lot of things would need to change for me to say it aloud.
We arrive in New Orleans just after five. I half-expected Kelsey to be irritated—she’d planned to distribute the welcome bags before everyone arrived—but she’s too happy to have Easton here to care.
“I can’t believe you had to endure over a week with my awful brother,” she says as soon as we step into the Boudreauxes’ massive foyer. “Did he make you lift with him every day? He’s so annoying about that.”
Easton’s gaze meets mine, and her mouth slips into a smile. I assume she’s thinking of yesterday, which was extremely active though not in any traditional way. “He wasn’t especially awful. What can we do to help?”
“We need to distribute the bags,” Kelsey says, giving me a look. “Once somebody has brought everything inside.”
“Damn, Kelsey,” I reply. “Not even married to a billionaire but already got the Marie Antoinette act down cold.”
Her mouth opens to object when the back door opens. Hawk and a guy about his size walk in, wearing polo shirts and shorts.
“Oh!” Kelsey cries, grabbing Easton’s arm. “The boys are back from the driving range. Come meet Aiden.”
I follow, as if Kelsey wanted to introduce me too. I’m pretty sure she didn’t.
Hawk shakes my hand while Kelsey introduces Easton and Aiden. “You just missed a very wet day on the driving range,” Hawk says. “Aiden, this is Kelsey’s brother, Elijah.”
We shake hands before Aiden’s attention darts immediately back to Easton. “Kelsey says you’re studying longevity,” he says. “I’ve got so many questions for you. I was just reading this thing about creatine, and I want your opinion.”
Did I ask her a single fucking question about her research or the shit she cares about?
I don’t think I did, and I actually wanted to know.
I was just too scared to show my ignorance, to accidentally remind her of one of the reasons she belongs with Thomas instead.
And here Aiden is, proving that there might still be a few good men in the world, but that I’m not one of them.
He pulls up an article and she tells him what another study has found.
I remain by her side like a fucking oaf, saying nothing, because I just want to stop whatever’s occurring here in its tracks.
“Elijah,” Kelsey sighs. “I need the bags.”
“I’ll help you bring everything in,” Hawk offers, so I’ve got no choice but to go.
We head toward the driveway, Hawk laughing under his breath. “Aiden didn’t waste any time, huh?”
My responding laugh is entirely forced and comes out sounding more like: “Hmmm.”
“Don’t worry,” he assures me. “Aiden is a great guy. He’ll make her forget all about Thomas Fucking Prescott, that douche. I hope he does anyway. It’s pretty much the only way I’m going to see your sister between now and the wedding.”
I raise a brow at him, wondering if this is veiled criticism of Easton. “Oh? Why’s that?”
He laughs. “Have you not seen the schedule? Even the stuff that isn’t segregated by gender is actually going to be segregated by gender. My mom’s doing, not Kelsey’s.”
He pulls a folded-up card out of his pocket titled “Kelsey and Hawk’s Wedding Weekend” and hands it to me.
Wednesday
Arrival
6 pm: Dinner served on the terrace.
Evening:
Men–Screening of The Godfather on the terrace.
Ladies–Screening of The Notebook in the movie room
Thursday
8-10 am: Breakfast on terrace
10 am: Ladies tour of New Orleans graveyards
1 pm: Men’s bayou tour
7 pm: Bachelor/Bachelorette parties begin. Dinner while out.
Friday:
8–10 am: Breakfast on terrace
9-5: Men’s golf at the English Turn Golf & Country Club (Lunch served on premises)
12-4: Ladies spa day! We will have masseuses, manicurists, and facialists on the pool deck and beneath the big tent. (Lunch served poolside.)
5 PM: Rehearsal
6:30 PM: Rehearsal dinner held at La Maison Rouge.
“There’s an entirely different schedule for the older crowd,” he says. “Nuts, right?”
“It’s a lot,” I concur. I’m barely going to see Easton, but at least I can slide into her room when all this shit is done. “I guess you’ll see Kels at night?”
He laughs. “Not even then. She’s sharing a room with Easton until the wedding. That’s why I’m rooting for Aiden.”
Fuck.
So I’m not getting Easton alone by day and I’m also not getting her alone by night.
Aiden, however, might have a shot. I’m not sure which of these things is worse. They both fucking kill me.